A Christmas Carol
by Mad-like
Summary: Since the new love birds are named Marley and Jacob let's assume it's a shoutout to Jacob Marley, aka Ebenezer Scrooge's partner in a Christmas Carol. I guess the Christmas episode will feature the ghosts of Christmas past, present and future. Anyway, I'm hoping to see a reference to It's A Wonderful Life ( ie what if I was never born?) so I wrote my own.
1. Cause The Rain Don't Care

**Since the new love birds are named Marley and Jacob let's assume it's a shoutout to Jacob Marley, aka Ebenezer Scrooge's partner in a Christmas Carol. I guess the Christmas episode will feature the ghosts of Christmas past, present and future. Anyway, I'm hoping to see a reference to It's A Wonderful Life so I wrote one.**

**Note: I don't own Glee or anybody's Christmas story. Neither Charles Dickens (A Christmas Carol), Frank Capra (It's a Wonderful Life) or Jean Shepherd (A Christmas Story).  
**

**xoxoxoxox**

William Schuester stood on the hotel balcony, looking at the streets of Washington, DC twenty stories below him, at the steady flow of traffic, red and white lights streaming off to the horizon. No carollers, just the honks and hoots of vehicles for his Christmas Eve soundtrack. Just the yule log on PBS to keep him company. He sighed and turned away from the window and looked at the TV. _A Christmas Story_. Will settled in for one of his favorite movies.

"No, Ralphie! You'll shoot your eye out!"

Will especially loved the ugly lamp - a mannequin leg clad in fishnet stockings with a gaudy red velvet, black fringed shade. He'd begged Terrie to buy him one, with no luck. He'd been dropping hints to Emma but the result looked about the same. Fuck it, he's a grown man and can buy his own damn lamp. He reached for his laptop to do some research, wondering if you can buy one online and how much they cost. But he couldn't pick up his laptop, his hand slid right though the plastic case. What the fuck? He looked up at a knock on the door. Then Becky Johnson walked in, right through the solid wooden door.

"I am the ghost of Christmas present." Becky said solemnly in an odd English accent.

"You're kidding me!"

Becky sat down on the bed beside him. "You're right. I am totally shitting you." She looked at the remote and the channel switched to Jersey Shore. "I'm from a completely different movie. Will, I can call you Will 'cause I'm a spirit, weren't you just thinking your students would be better off if you'd jumped off the school roof all those years ago?"

"No, I was not!" Will answered indignantly. "I was just wondering how much a lamp shaped like a leg cost."

"Damn, I guess I'm a six-pack too early." She looked at the remote again and the channel switched to Bridezillas. "I love this show! Wanna watch?"

"No." Will hates that show. Those psychotic women and de-balled men remind him of his first marriage.

Becky looked at the remote and Will watched two women argue over throwing away a broken coffee pot. "Hoarders?"

"Even worse. It gives Emma hives."

"Whatever." Becky looked at the remote and the TV switched off. "Since I'm here let's get started."

"Started doing what?" Will asked in shock.

"Not that!" Becky said with a wink. "No offense but I'm not into old guys. I mean, if I were...but I'm not. No offense."

"None taken." Will assured her.

"Good. Blink and it's five years from now." Becky took his hand in hers. "Blink!"

**xoxoxoxox**

Will opened his eyes in an expensive hotel penthouse. His eyes were drawn towards the balcony, where a woman stood leaning against the railing. Her whole body trembled and that, plus the way the wind blew her long dress and hair, was damned creepy. Will wondered if she was about to jump off the balcony and what he was supposed to do about it when her knees crumbled and she sagged towards the floor. Drawing closer he heard a heart breking sob escape from her lips. There was a knock on the door and the woman whirled around.

"Shane?" Mercedes Jones asked excitedly.

"Room service." A voice answered.

She willed herself to stand up straight. "Come in." She droned in a flat emotionless voice.

Will watched the waiter wheel in a tray of food. Mercedes resumed staring at the Vegas strip, ignoring the waiter as he clattered plates on the table at the foot of the king-size bed. His job done, she waited for the sound of him leaving so she could continue crying over Shane Tinsley in privacy. Only he didn't leave.

"Is something wrong?" Mercedes asked, walking in from the balcony and closing the glass door behind her. Will looked at his former/never student. Her long black hair was tousled, no doubt by the wind outside. The sequined black dress she was wearing hugged her curvy body. Her eyes were red but her makeup, and she was wearing a lot of makeup, was in place. "Do you need me to sign something?" Mercedes forced a smile to her lips.

"No. Nothing's wrong." The waiter spoke shyly. "I just wanted to say I really enjoyed your show tonight."

"Thank you." She looked at him. He was young, though probably about her age, and he was wearing the black suit all the employees here seem to wear. She noticed his short blonde hair, green eyes and especially his smile. This man had the nicest lips she'd ever seen on a white guy. "Thank you very much. That's very kind of you to say that."

"It's not kindness, it's truth." He said cheerfully. "I always knew you'd be famous. We went to the same high school and I knew back then."

"We went to the same high school?" She racked her brain trying to place his face.

"I'm sure people say that to you all the time." He smiled at her nod. "But in my case it's true. I went to McKinley in Lima Ohio, but only for one year."

"Why only one year?"

His smile faded a bit. "We moved a lot."

"Military?"

"Something like that. Anyway, I heard you sing once. You sang at a school assembly. I remember it because there was this other girl that used to sing all the time. She was okay but at this assembly she sang something by Adele. It was okay but Adele was all over the radio that year and Adele has a voice like..." he gazed into space "like thunder in the next country. You know what I mean?" Mercedes nodded, fascinated that he choose that metaphor. "Well this girl had a voice more like...like when somebody's about to give a speech and they click their fork against a glass? Like that."

"Rachel. Her name was Rachel." Thin and brassy were the words Mercedes would have used to describer her voice.

"Well, she was alright but then you started to sing. You started singing and I thought I was gonna die. I mean I couldn't breathe the whole time. The guy sitting next to me, he was on the football team with me and he complained that he never heard that song before and he wanted to hear Katy Perry. The guy sitting on the other side said your voice was trance inducing and the first guy should just turn on the damned radio if he wanted to hear Katy Perry. Anyway I told both of them to shut up." He looked into her deep brown eyes. "Your voice is like a chocolate fountain." He blushed. "Stupid comparison I know but they have a couple down in the buffet room. Sometimes they ask me watch and make sure kids don't stick their fingers in it, that's a health code violation you know, and I was standing near them and you were singing something slow in the next room and that image just fits. Anyway I knew one day people would pay to hear your voice. And I was right."

"That's really sweet." Even with her dark skin and a ton of makeup Will could tell she was blushing too.

"I'm not the only person who thinks that." He said with enthusiasm. "You won a Grammy after all!"

"Best New Artist." She snorted. "Me, Starland Vocal Band, Milli Vanilli. One hit wonders, all of us."

"Yep. John Legend, Norah Jones, Adele, Mariah Carey, The Beatles, Alicia Keys, Christina Aguilera, Maroon 5. Never heard from again." She laughed at his lopsided grin. "Not one of them."

"You know what I mean!" She forced herself to stop staring at him by focusing on the fruit salad he had placed on the table. "I mean look at Christoper Cross." She said, remembering her train of thought. "That guy was fucking brilliant and see what happened to him."

"It'll work out. I knew it then and I know it now." He looked down at his cell phone and laughed. "Gotta go. Duty calls."

"Wait a minute!" she called to the retreating waiter. "What's your name?"

"Sam." He grinned again. "Sam Evans."

**xoxoxoxox**

Mercedes was starting to hate touring with a passion. It was exciting at first, seeing all those different cities, until she realized the only things she saw was airports, hotel rooms, waiting rooms, stages. A hotel is a hotel is a hotel. After the first year she made it a point to allot time for playing tourist. So here she was, her last day in Las Vegas, as far from the strip as possible. She'd spent the day ohhing and ahhing over Hover Dam and now she was having coffee at this local diner, lured in by a hand lettered sign proclaiming "Live Music!".

Mercedes stared at the inside of her cup of tea, trying to conjure the answer to her question. What now? It definitely appears that Shane is not coming back. It's been three days since he walked out on her week long gig in this Vegas hotel. He's definitely leaving her for some damned dancer. This five year ride certainly ended with a high-speed collision with a brick wall. Mercedes felt a sudden craving for tater tots. Crazy, she hasn't craved carbs in years. She wondered if this place has fruit salad, that usually works to blunt the craving. Losing her man is bad enough, she didn't want the tabloids to start saying her body's gone to shit too. Not after all the hard work she put in getting this new body. She swirled the tea leaves as suddenly the music being played in the front of the room registered. She smiled, this song always made her happy. Even slowed down and acoustic the way it was being played, this song made her happy.

Sam didn't notice her when he sat down to play, mostly because he doesn't wear his glasses when performing. Sam prefers that, to have the audience out of focus. He finds it calming. And Sam's used to being ignored, especially when he plays his original pieces. It amazes him but people really only want to hear what they've already heard. He can't understand the point to that and as a result Sam does very few covers and when he does it's always rearrangements of something old or obscure. He could tell nobody was getting this song, except for the black woman in the back who's squealing like a child.

"Thank you Las Vegas!" Sam has seen this show four times now but tonight Mercy J was on fire. She was good all week but tonight? Tonight she let out all the stops. She ran throw her hits and even threw in a few old favorites. "My last song tonight" She was slightly out of breath, "If my new favorite song. Before I start, I want to thank a few people. First the house band! You guys made me look good. Let's hear it for the band! Next, the hotel management for inviting me to perform for you guys. And last, but not least, definitely not least, the people who keep this place spotless, who've kept us all well-fed and well-service. Let's give it up for the housekeeping, kitchen and wait staff." She winked in Sam's direction. "Especially for the wait staff." She turned to the band leader and smiled.

_Should've told her you were sorry  
Could have said you were wrong  
But no you couldn't do that.  
You had to prove that you were strong  
If you hadn't been so blinded  
She might still be there with you  
You want her back again  
But she just don't feel the same  
Gotta blame it on something  
Gotta blame it on something_

Blame it on the rain that was falling, falling  
Blame it on the stars that did shine that night  
Whatever you do 

_Don't put the blame on you  
Blame it on the rain yeah yeah_

You can blame it on the rain  
Cause the rain don't mind  
And the rain don't care  
You got to blame it on something

_Blame it on the rain that was falling, falling  
Blame it on the stars that did shine that night  
Whatever you do _

_Don't put the blame on you  
Blame it on the rain yeah yeah_

**xoxoxoxox**

Two months later Sam found himself knocking on the door of the condo in Atlanta. The door was opened immediately by an angry black woman

"About time you came to pick up your shit! I was just about to call Goodwill and..." Mercedes looked at Sam and blinked. "Sam! I was expecting somebody else."

"I'm sorry." Sam kicked himself, this was such a stupid idea. "I sent you an email? You said I should come? I can go if it's a bad time."

It took a few minutes for his words to register. "No, no! I'm just fucking brain dead these days. Come on in." She looked at the backpack and guitar he was carrying. "Where are you staying?"

"I just got here. I didn't really think much past getting here." God, what an idiot! He added another mental kick in the ass as he stepped around a pile of boxes near the door.

"So, how was your trip?" Mercedes asked in what seemed to Sam a very noncommittal way.

"Okay. My car broke down and I had to hitch the last couple hundred miles. That's why it took so long."

"You hitched?" She asked in amazement.

"That and the bus. That's the kind of experience I can use in a song one day." He said nervously.

Mercedes frowned slightly and looked at a road-weary Sam. She sniffed him discretely and didn't like what she smelled. Did he come here on a chicken truck? "Well, all that time on a bus, I bet you'd enjoy a nice warm bath." He declined the offer, citing the imposition. "It's fine. Go on. I insist." She assumed an offer-you-won't-refuse attitude. "I'll fix lunch while you clean up."

And she was right, he did enjoy that warm shower after four days on the road. He stepped out of the steam shower and wrapped a fluffy white towel around his waist. He reached for his backpack and a change of clothing before remembering he left it sitting on her living room floor. Stepping out of the bathroom he realized he was stepping right into the middle of a fight and his view was blocked by a massive black man with his back to Sam.

"You'll come crawling back. I know you. No matter how much weight you lose of how many people you have sucking up to you I know who you are. Fat, mousy Mercedes from Ohio. I made you what you are baby, don't ever forget it!" The man hissed.

"You had connections Shane, thank you very much, but you didn't make me! And if I end up back in Lima Ohio singing in the church choir I'd be happier than seeing the inside of a penthouse flat on my back! Just take your shit and get out."

"You're going to regret that!" Shane took a menacing step towards her. This guy Shane was six inches taller and at least 100, maybe 150 pounds heavier than him but Sam prepared himself to jump on the man. Sam figured he had speed and surprise on his side and that should buy him approximately 10 seconds before he got killed. Then they both heard Mercedes speak.

"Don't. Even. Think it!" She said in a tone that would have made Lord Voldermort reconsider. "Just get out. Now!"

The human instinct for self-preservation kicked in at the same time Shane became aware of another presence in the room. He turned on Sam. "Who the hell is he?"

"A guitarist. Now get out!" Mercedes pushed one of the boxes stacked by the front door into the hallway.

Will noticed Becky staring at Sam with intense focus. Then suddenly Sam's towel fell on the floor. Sam blushed beet red in the face of Shane's laughter.

"She's used to champagne, white boy! You ain't getting nowhere with Bud light!"

Becky Johnson knew her job was to teach Will Schuester the error of his ways and in order to do that she had to drop into the lives of the original members of what became New Directions. She'd been dogging Mercedes for the last six month, trying to pick destiny-defining incidents to show Will, and as a result has seen Shane naked several times. However, this was the first time her job gave her the opportunity to see Sam naked. Becky didn't know how this story was going to play out but she knew for a fact Ms. Jones wasn't going to be disappointed if she ever bedded Mr. Evans. White boy was packing!

Becky followed Sam's retreat into the bathroom, research if anybody asked. If you gotta be a spirit you might as well get something out of it. Shane threw Sam's backpack against the bathroom door before going to collect his boxes.

"Put some clothes on, white boy!"

Mercedes missed the sexy Sam show, intent on tossing Shane's belongings out the front door.

**xoxoxoxox**

Blame It On The Rain - Milli Vanilli


	2. The Silver Thorn, The Bloody Rose

**Thank you for all the kind reviews/alerts/favorites. This will be a short story, 6 chapters max, and I promise to be finished before Christmas. Maybe Thanksgiving but no promises on that.**

"You having fun in there?" Will asked Becky, who was sitting on the edge of the bathtub watching Sam get dressed.

"As a matter of fact, yes." Becky answered. "Unfortunately that concludes this section of tonight's entertainment." She looked at Sam flexing his pecs in the mirror. Yes! "Most unfortunate." She made a point to walk through Sam on her way out the door. Perks of being a spirit.

"Seems like Mercedes made out okay." Will said glumly. "What with a Grammy and all."

"Yeah, she did good for herself. Now let's see who's next on our list! Blink!"

**xoxoxoxox**

Will opened his eyes to stare into the face of young boy. "Who are you?" he asked.

"Rory? Rory Flannagan?" Blank stare from Will. "I was in your glee club?"

"You were?" Will peered at the boy.

"In real life I have a thick Irish accent. I decided to take it easy on you tonight."

"And you were in glee club?" Will didn't believe it.

"For about six months. The fact that you don't remember me explains a lot, actually. Oh well, that's not tonight's lesson."

"Where's Becky?" Will looked around.

"Claims she's doing research." He rolled his eyes. "I can't believe she just figured out the towel trick."

"And where are we?" Will asked.

"Let's see, a metal box moving on wheels along a track. I don't know, Sherlock, a train?" Rory turned to listen to the conversation unfolding in front of him.

"Thank you so much for doing this interview." A short curly-haired man said to a taller man with piercing blue eyes sitting next to him on the train. "Our readers will be fascinated with your story."

"No problem, Mr. Anderson." Kurt Hummel answered. "It's my job, after all."

"Blaine." The curly-haired main smiled. "I'd prefer it if you called me Blaine."

"Then Blaine it is." He offered Blaine a very business-like smile. "My studio needs all the publicity it can get. That's the whole reason I went on Project Runway, the publicity. Winning the cash prize was a bonus." Kurt lightly rubbed his temples. "I should be thanking you for spending your Thanksgiving vacation going down to Washington to get this profile finished up before my next showing."

"It's no problem. My holidays have unexpectedly freed up." Kurt looked at him with mild interest. "My partner and I, we'd been together since high school and Sebastian decided, now of all times, that he wants to try something, more likely somebody, new. New Year, new life. That's how a writer would see it."

"You're the writer so I guess you'd know. I suppose it saves you from buying an expensive present for somebody who's not going to stick around anyway." Kurt looked out the window for a few minutes. "I've never had time for a relationship."

"Never?" Blaine asked in amazement.

"For a relationship." Kurt clarified. "As in monogamy and all that BS."

"You think monogamy's BS?"

"Yes. I do." He stopped staring out the window and began staring at the ceiling. "You don't have family to visit?"

"They go to Europe for the holidays. I procrastinated on getting my passport renewed, figuring I'd be with Sebastian in Vale." Blaine pulled out his notebook and a fountain pen. A fountain pen. How quaint Kurt thought. "You're from Ohio but your family's in Washington?"

"Yes, my dad and step-mom live in Washington. He's a congressman."

"So you don't have any family in Ohio?"

"I have a brother and sister-in-law there. Finn and Quinn are their names. Isn't that too cute?"

"Too. Will I be meeting them too?"

"Off the record?" Blaine nodded his head. "Finn and the kids may be there. He's my brother, step-brother, and I love him dearly but he's not the sharpest knife in the drawer. He just realized all three of his kids look alike and none of them look like him. They do bear a striking resemblance to his best friend. Odd, huh?" Kurt looked out the window again, regretting what he'd just said. "Do people normally air their family's dirty laundry to you with so little prompting?"

"Not usually." Blaine admitted. "People normally find me intense and uncomfortable to be around."

"Really?" Kurt examined his travelling companion, from the carefully shined shoes, the stylish but conservative suit, to the slightly long curly black hair. He looked at the expensive camel hair folded carefully in Blaine's lap. The whole presentation spoke of money, old money. "Then how do you get people to cooperate during interviews if you're making them feel uncomfortable?"

"Normally I write for the business section and it's mostly catching corporate types in lies. It helps if they're already feeling uncomfortable when I zap them with some illegal activity I dug up hidden in an SEC filing. Throws them off balance. I'm doing this story because A, I wondered how winning Project Runway translates into dollars and cents for a business and B, nobody else was around."

"Oh" Kurt looked out the window at the city passing by. "By the way it's the eyebrows. They're a little intense."

Blaine passed his hands over his busy eyebrows. "Maybe I ought to do something about that?"

"I wouldn't bother. I mean, I wouldn't bother on such a superficial thing. It adds interest, that one thing about you that's slightly unconventional."

**xoxooxox**

"That's odd." Kurt said, turning the key in the lock of Burt and Carol's suspiciously quiet downtown Washington apartment. "They should be here."

Blaine put his overnight bag down by the door while Kurt read the note on the dining room table.

"Shit!" he put down the note and pulled out his cellphone. "Why don't they text like normal people?" He paced for a few minutes, waiting for a connection. "Dad?"

Blaine headed in the direction of the kitchen while Kurt talked. After a few minutes Kurt entered the kitchen.

"They went to France." He sat down at the kitchen table. "Some last minute political thing. And Finn, the brother I mentioned? He's staying in Ohio. Looks like it's just us." He opened the refrigerator. "I wonder if there's any food?"

******xoxooxox**

Blaine was a writer, trained to observe people, and Kurt's entire demeanour changed the minute he realized he was going to be spending at least one night alone with Blaine. Blaine tried to figure out Kurt's problem, the cause of his jittery nerves. He could have just asked but Kurt wasn't talking, he was just drinking. And drinking a lot.

"Are we going to hang around here watching Kurt drink himself into a stupor?" Will whined.

"No, there's a point to this." Rory said. At least he hoped there was a point to this, this was Becky's plan. "Here it comes."

Blaine watched Kurt suddenly stand up and put on his coat.

"Are we going somewhere?" Blaine reached for his coat.

"We? No, WE'RE not going anywhere. I'm going out."

"Where?"

"Where? Just out. I'd ask you but it's uncomfortable, we have to work together and all. Unless you do hookups?"

"No. Sorry, I don't."

"Well then, I'll see you later." Kurt headed to the door.

"Wait a minute." Blaine reached for his arm. "I'm not your father or anything, but I don't think you should go."

"Why not?" Kurt asked, spearing Blaine with his ice blue eyes.

"You don't know me." He smiled what he hoped was an ingratiating way. "How would your dad feel if I emptied the place out?"

"I doubt that's going to happen."

"Not to be a nag but, don't you think it's dangerous, random hookups?"

Kurt shrugged. "It's what I do. Like I said, I don't do relationships."

"Why not?"

"Hell if I know. I just don't. I'll be back later." He paused at the door. "Don't steal anything."

**xoxooxox**

"That was it?" Schuester asked in disgust. "That's it?"

Rory pulled out a cellphone and sent a text. He read the response and looked sadly at Schuester. "Blink."

When he opened his eyes it was morning and Becky was standing there. "Send a boy to do a woman's work." she said, this time with an Australian accent. "I hope Sue doesn't find out." She smiled at Will. "So, William. What did I miss?"

"I don't know. Kurt's a slut?"

"Besides that."

"And an alcoholic?" Schuester added. "Hey, why is he acting like he just met Blaine?"

"He did just meet him. No glee club, no spying on the Warblers, no Blaine."

"So Kurt, at least, needed me." Will felt vindicated.

Becky ignored him.

**xoxoxoxox**

Blaine woke up to the smell of coffee. Well it seems like Kurt made it back safely. Blaine was relieved, he had no idea where to start searching if Kurt hadn't made it back home. He quickly showered, dressed and headed to the kitchen. He stopped at the door to the living room at the sight of Kurt was kneeling on the floor in front of the coffee table, drawing in a sketch pad like a child, colored pencils arrayed before him, humming along to whatever was playing through his headphones. Suddenly he sat back on his heels and started singing out loud.

_Now I understand what you tried to say to me,  
How you suffered for your sanity,  
How you tried to set them free.  
They would not listen, they did not know how.  
Perhaps they'll listen now. _

_For they could not love you,  
But still your love was true.  
And when no hope was left in sight  
On that starry, starry night,  
You took your life, as lovers often do.  
But I could have told you, David,  
This world was never meant for one  
As beautiful as you. _

_Starry, starry night.  
Portraits hung in empty halls,  
Frameless head on nameless walls,  
With eyes that watch the world and can't forget.  
Like the strangers that you've met,  
The ragged men in the ragged clothes,  
The silver thorn, the bloody rose,  
Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow. _

_Now I think I know what you tried to say to me.  
How you suffered for your sanity,  
How you tried to set them free.  
They would not listen, they're not listening still.  
Perhaps they never will._

Kurt removed his headphones and stared into space for a few minutes. Then he slowly looked in Blaine's direction. "Do you always spy on people like that? It's no wonder you make them nervous."

"No. Sorry. I didn't want to interrupt."

"So you decided to lurk instead?" He didn't sound angry, just remote.

"I'm sorry." He sat down on the floor, opposite Kurt. "Who's David?"

"It's just a song." Kurt fiddled with the headphones.

"A song called Vincent."

"Right, it's a song about Vincent Van Gogh. David was a friend. A brilliant artist." Kurt shivered slightly, casting off all thought of David, and reached for his sketchpad. When he spoke again even his tone of voice was different, as if he was forcing himself to be social. "Hope I didn't wake you. I was up all night. Cooking. I took your advice and went to the grocery store. After all, you're company and need to be fed."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." He turned his attention back to his sketch pad.

Blaine looked at the upside down sketch. "What's that?"

"For a project. An old friend of mine, Mercedes..."

"Mercy J?" Blaine interrupted.

"How did you know that?" He asked, puzzled.

"Rachel Berry. Rachel works at the office and she's a huge name dropper. When she heard I was interviewing you she talked my ear off."

"Sounds like Rachel." His voice held a slight hint of irritation. Kurt stood up, in an oddly fluid movement, and picked up a framed picture on the fireplace mantel. He handed the picture to Blaine. Three kids at a graduation picnic. A heavy Mercedes, a Tina hiding behind her hair and a smiling Kurt. If Blaine didn't know better he would have never recognized them compared with their public personas. For one thing they all seemed happy in the picture, whereas Kurt hadn't cracked a real smile yet, as far as Blaine could tell.

"Yes, Mercy J is what she's calling herself these days. Her voice is transcendental, you'd never know it by the crap she sings. Over-processed I say. It sells she says. I do the costumes for her shows but this is something different. She has this project she's been working on for years. West Side Story is a sore point with her and she wrote an adaption she hopes to get produced one day. This is for a Tony and Maria who live at Mission San Antonio de Valero in 1836." Blaine gave him a puzzled look. "Battle of the Alamo?" He put the photo back and picked up his cup of coffee. "We're supposed to remember the Alamo but what are we supposed to remember about it? Mercedes is a history buff, among other things, and knew that Americans moved into Mexican Texas and then proceeded to overthrow the Mexican government. That's what the battle of the Alamo was all about. In addition, slaves born in Mexico were automatically free because slavery was illegal Mexico. People who were already slaves became 'indentured servants for life' but babies were born free. Tony's an American settler/soldier and Maria's a free black woman. It's just in the idea stage but I do sketches when I have free time."

Blaine watched Kurt stretch and rub his shoulder. "Here, let me." He knelt behind Kurt and started to rub his shoulders but Kurt flinched at his touch. "Sorry."

"No, it's fine. Just unexpected is all. I mean, after what you said last night."

"About relationships?" Blaine asked with a laugh. "That's still true." He started rubbing Kurt's shoulders again. "My mom is a massage therapist and a big believer in the healing power of the human touch. She's a therapist, not like a massage parlor."

"Why do you make that distinction, not a massage parlor?"

"I don't know. You say massage and people immediately think of sex. Sex isn't the only way to connect with people."

"It's the fastest way." Kurt observed.

"Really? I mean how well do you know those guys you hook up with?"

"As well as I want to know them. Plus, your high school boyfriend, how did knowing him all those years work out?"

"I guess you're right." Blaine stopped rubbing Kurt's back and resumed his place across the coffee table. He picked up his notebook. "So you came to New York right after high school and got an internship with a Broadway costume designer?"

"Yes. I learned a lot there."

"About designing?"

"About designing under time and cost restraints. About other things."

"Like what?"

"Things." He said curtly. What is it about this guy that makes him run off at the mouth? "Things that don't have anything to do with this article."

"Okay." Blaine put down his notebook and picked at the quiche Kurt made earlier. That costume designer had a reputation for running through pretty male assistants, most of whom only lasted a couple of months. The fact that Kurt lasted three years was a testament to his talent. Rumor had it design skill was the least important talent in that studio. Not such a wild a rumor since the designer ended up dead in a murder/suicide at the hands of an unstable assistant. Kurt took over and finished the several projects the designer had in process, bringing them all in on time and under-budget. That was Kurt's claim to fame, the thing that launched his career, but perhaps that's where Kurt's aversion to relationships started? Blaine did the calculations in his head. Kurt must have been awfully young at the time.

"When Lorenzo died..." Blaine could have sworn the temperature in the room dropped 10 degrees. "You don't have to answer this question if you don't want."

"Depends on where this question is going." Kurt answered coldly.

"How did you get those jobs finished in time? As I understand it the studio was way behind. Before."

"Yes." Kurt seemed to relax. "We were. It, the studio, was very poorly run. Lorenzo had a bad habit or wasting time and then forcing everybody to work late in a mad dash to the finish. He was incompetent if you want to know the truth. Incompetent and..." Kurt took a deep breath before continuing. "Lorenzo had some sketches and I called in a designer friend, Tina, to help me finish the designs. And Mercedes helped too."

"Rachel mentioned you both went to school with Tina Cohen-Chang the actress. That Tina?" Kurt nodded. "They're both designers too?"

"Tina is. Mostly day wear and accessories. Back in highschool we did costumes for all the school plays and we work well together. She reels back some of the over the top stuff. And Mercedes, she doesn't design but she sewed, cooked and forced us to get some sleep. The two of them saved the studio. And my sanity."

Wondering how far he should follow this line of discussion, Blaine was distracted by his cell phone, his sister's ringtone. "Do you mind?" he asked.

"No, fine." Kurt put in his headphones and started sketching again.

"Thanks." Blaine walked into the bedroom to continue his call. Twenty minutes later he returned.

"Kurt, I pretty much have everything I need for this article. That was my sister, she lives in Baltimore, and she just heard from my mom that I'm still in the country. She invited me over for Thanksgiving dinner, you're welcome too." Blaine smiled in anticipation. "I don't know how your holidays are but my sister's is full of children, in-laws, and people I from her office who don't have in-town relatives. A madhouse. If you don't mind sleeping on the living room floor one more person won't make a difference. Or you could come back here, it's only 40 miles up the road."

It sounded like Thanksgiving with the Jones family. Before Carol, dragging along Finn and Quinn, entered their lives the Hummels spent Thanksgiving with Mercedes and, according to Dr. Jones, anybody who couldn't outrun Mrs. Jones' hospitality. After the wedding the Hummels spent Thanksgiving with the Fabrays in a quiet house full of unspoken resentments. Kurt considered. He could stay here, alone, or go back to New York. Alone. "Yes, I'd enjoy a trip to Baltimore."

**xoxoxoxo**

"Seems to me Kurt needed me." Will gloated.

"You would think that." Becky said. "You let him sing just enough to encourage his dream of NAYDA. You know what that place costs? If you'd been around he'd be up to his eyeballs in student loan debt right about now. And wasting time before a mad dash to the finish? Remind you of anybody, Mr. No-Set-List?"

"I thought the point was how I made a difference in my student's lives!" Will complained.

"Jesus you're a whiner! I'm getting to that. Blink!"

* * *

_Vincent (aka Starry, Starry Night) - Don Mclean_


	3. Deep Greens and Blues

**Thanks for all the reviews and alerts. Chapter 3 out of 5 (or maybe 6) and it's time for Tina's story.**

* * *

Will opened his eyes in a child's bedroom. A young woman sat on the edge of the child's bed, her short black hair tucked behind her ears. She leaned over to kiss the dark-haired child in the bed.

"Mommy?"

"Yes, Max?"

"At daddy's house he let me eat cookies for breakfast."

"Really?" Tina Cohen-Chang was not at all surprised. "I bet you really liked that!"

"I did. Can I have cookies for breakfast?"

"No, you may not." She stood up.

"Mommy?"

"Yes, Max?"

"At daddy's house I could stay up as late as I wanted to."

"Really? I bet you really, really liked that!"

"I did! Can I stay up a little while longer?"

"No, you may not."

"Mommy?"

"Max?" Tina stopped with her hand on the doorknob and smiled at her son because this too was part of the ritual.

"You forgot the song!"

"I did?" She sat on the edge of the bed again. "I forgot! You were gone for a whole week! Remind me how it starts."

_There's a song that they sing when they take to the highway,  
A song that they sing when they take to the sea,  
A song that they sing of their home in the sky  
Maybe you can believe it if it helps you to sleep,  
Like singing works just fine for me._

So, goodnight you moon light ladies,  
Rock-a-bye sweet baby James.  
Deep greens and blues are the colors I choose  
Won't you let me go there in my dreams?  
And rock-a-bye sweet baby James.  


Tina kissed her son for the last time. "Goodnight baby." She left the room, leaving the bedroom door open slightly and the hall light on. Her bedroom was next door and she sat down on the four-poster bed covered in puffy white quilts. She picked up a fed-ex envelope and pulled out a script. She carefully tucked her hair behind her ears and flipped through the document, counting lines. Four lines in this episode. Thank god she gets paid by the season, not by the word. Adam, the lead writer, must really hate her. Of course he does and she just sang a lullaby to the reason why. Tina put the script away, brushed her teeth and climbed into bed.

"And the point to this?" Will irately asked this companion. This one he recognized by his dreads. Joe Hart.

"Isn't she beautiful?" Joe asked, looking at her with rapture.

"Yes, she's very pretty."

"She's beautiful. Period. I don't know why you didn't want to put her up front."

"I did." Will insisted.

"Once." Joe said angrily. "She's so beautiful and she's as good a singer as your favorite and you just shoved her to the back until that one time there were only two girls left. And after that? Back of the stage!"

"She was awful moody." Will tried to justify his behavior.

"Did you every try to figure out why? I mean, isn't that the kind of thing the teacher of the year would do?" Will heard the air-quotes around "Teacher of the Year".

Will looked down at the woman who was half-asleep and tried to think. Why hadn't he wondered about all that crying? He hadn't even taken time to wonder about her odd last name. Cohen-Chang. Looking closely she didn't look like a Cohen or a Chang.

"That's because she was born in Korea." Joe said, reading his mind.

"You guys can read minds?"

"I can." Joe said, smiling for the first time. "I'm advanced. And there's no real point to this, I just like to look at her, she's so beautiful and she hardly ever sings anymore, only to him." He turned at the expected sound of footsteps in the hallway.

"Mommy?"

"Yes, you may." Tina smiled and reached out for the small boy bounding to the bed.

**xoxoxoxoox**

Will wasn't sure how much time had passed but it was daytime and Becky was back. Mercedes and Kurt were sitting on a patio talking to Tina. Max was getting a swimming lesson. Will looked at Max closely, he hadn't noticed last night but one of Max's legs seemed thinner, paler than the other.

"Is there something wrong with his leg, like Tiny Tim?"

"Way too literal, William." She answered with a Caribbean lilt. "He just got a cast off. That's why he's here, physical therapy."

"Oh. And..."

"Can't you just listen for a minute?" Becky interrupted. "I only have one night to get through this."

"Excuse me!" Will turned his attention to the trio at the table.

"I call this meeting of the Slushie club to order." Kurt said. "First, old business."

"Congratulations are in order." Mercedes said. "Good work on that interview, Kurt. Between that and Project Runway how's business?"

"I'm milking it. The set design work is holding steady. In addition I've gotten some nibbles, sold a few high end things and just got a big commission. A political wife so that's good. I'll need some help, Tina, but business looks good."

"I've got lots of time, the way I get ignored on the set. Put a check mark next to that." Tina and Kurt fist-bumped. "But what about this Blaine guy?"

"What about him?" Kurt asked with a sly smile.

"Now that's what I'm talking about!" Mercedes beamed. "Damn it Kurt, it's been years since I've seen that smile. That better than sex smile."

"Now let's not badmouth sex." Kurt answered with a laugh. "Monogamy, who would've thought I was capable of that?"

"Not me." Tina said.

"Me neither." Mercedes added.

"And speaking of you, how's sexy Sam?" Tina asked.

"I wish I'd never told you guys about that time I bumped into him wearing just a towel." Mercedes said with a blush. "We're not having sex." She twirled a glass of lemonade in her hands. "Sam's more like a roommate. He cooks, he cleans, he catches mice."

"You have mice?" Kurt squealed.

"No. But if I did I'm sure Sam would catch them. And before you get all excited in case Blaine doesn't work out I'm sure he's straight. He says he can't find a woman interested in a broke-ass guy."

"You sure about that? You sure you don't have a rule that if momma's not getting any ain't nobody getting any?"

"No. He could have overnight company if he wanted to. I think he's just tired, he has three jobs. And he's polite, what Grandma Jones would call 'raised right'. He opens car doors, cleans up after himself, all that kind of old-fashioned shit. And he's a decent composer. I think a long-term writing partner is better than a temporary bed warmer."

"Here's to long-term friends." Kurt help up his glass and the two friends clinked glasses. "Okay, let's scratch sexy Sam from the agenda. And you, Miss T?"

"What about me? I've got a child to raise." Tina looked at the boy in the pool.

"Tina. Single mothers have fun too." Mercedes shifted her gaze from the boy to the tall Asian main in the pool with Max. "How about him?"

"Mike? He's a physical therapist who lives in this complex."

"That's convenient." Kurt observed. "Single?"

"Yes, he said he was but anyway he noticed Max when he still had his cast and recommended swimming as therapy. He swims every night anyway."

"He manged to fit 'Did I mention I'm single?' in the conversation?" Mercedes asked. "You sure he just didn't want to see you in a bathing suit?"

"What you see is what you get." Tina looked like she'd just grabbed whatever was on top of the laundry, which apparently was a Hard Rock Cafe t-shirt and Bermuda shorts.

"How do you expect to catch a man dressed like that?" Kurt, resplendent in white linen, asked. "You're a designer for god's sake!"

"I'm not looking to catch a man. You see what happened with the last man I caught."

"Let's have a toast to men better left uncaught." Kurt raised his glass.

"What the heck is in your glass?" Mercedes asked.

"Just lemonade. I've cut back on my drinking, at least during daylight hours. So Tina, how are you fixed for sexy bathing suits?"

"I don't swim."

"Tina! You live in a complex with a pool."

"Well so do you Mercedes and you haven't lured sexy Sam into the water yet. That's something I wanna see a picture of. Put that in the meeting minutes."

"I don't swim." She repeated Tina's words. "And I don't even know if he has a bathing suit. When he showed up he was carrying everything he owned. A backpack and a guitar."

"Skinny dipping, even better. I think we'd all enjoy a picture of that." Kurt stood up. "Let's go shopping, Cedes. Tina, drop a hint to Mike that you have a couple of built-in babysitters for the next couple of days."

**xoxoxoxoox**

Mike Chang pulled the dining chair out for Tina to sit. "I'm really glad you have such good friends." He said softly. "There's nobody from my high school I'd want to see again."

"Nobody?"

"Not one person. I didn't have a lot of friends back then. People only spoke to me when they wanted me to do their homework. I had a hard enough time with my own homework." He laughed at the memory. "I must have missed the day they handed out those supposedly superior Asian brains."

"People never spoke to me either, except them. And then it felt like I'd always known them. Kurt and Mercedes go back either further, middle school. When we graduated we swore we'd keep in touch and every six months, regular as clockwork, we get together for at least a weekend, sometime a whole week if we can manage it." She sipped from the wineglass that had mysteriously appeared. "They're the best friends you could ever have. We have always, always been there for each other. Come hell or high water I can depend on them. Weird how we all accomplished what we wanted. Did you always want to be a physical therapist?"

"No, not really but it's a good job. I like helping people, seeing them get stronger and the one on one interaction? That's what I enjoy most about my job."

"So what did you want to do originally, before you discovered physical therapy?"

Mike smiled shyly. "You'll find out after dinner. I thought we could go to this dance club I like. Salsa."

"Salsa? I'm not much one for dancing."

"Oh, you're be great. You're really graceful."

"Oh? How do you know that?" Mercedes was right, her flirting skills had come back.

"I noticed you." He smiled again. "The way you walk, the way swoop Max up and twirl him around." He looked down at his salad. "I hope that doesn't sound too stalky."

"A little." Tina admitted.

"I'm sorry. It's just hard not to stare when you're around. I'll try to stop." He smiled like he had no intention of stopping.

"It's fine." Tina smiled back. "I kind of time Max's after dinner playground visit when I know you'll be at the pool. I guess that makes me a little stalky, too."

"So how longhave you been divorced, from Max's father?"

"I have to say you're not a very good stalker. We weren't married. It was all over the papers at the time but I guess it was a bigger deal to me than to the rest of the world. I'm an actress, you know, and in this particular story I'm either the husband-stealing, barely legal harlot who worked her feminine wiles in hopes of advancing her career. Or maybe I'm the innocent young farm-girl from Ohio. Used, impregnated and cast aside. Two sides of the same coin."

"How about the naive young woman who made a mistake?" Mike could tell that's the only correct answer. "Is that an option?"

"That's how my real friends see it. You said one-on-one interaction is what you like about your job?" Mike nodded. "Being in the public eye is what I hate about my job. Right before the shit hit the fan I got an Emmy. My character had this really good story line which ended in her having an abortion. People screamed I was setting a bad example. Jesus, it's just a tv show. Anyway, then when I decided to have Max people screamed that I was a hypocrite. Well, Adam, Max's father, was the one screaming the loudest about that. How many times and to how many people should I have to explain what my body, my choice means? Being forced to do something is just as bad as being stopped from doing something, least the way I see it."

"So Max's dad. Is he still in the picture?"

"Max sees him a couple of times a year. Matter of fact that's where he broke his leg, skiing with his dad. Anyway, how about you? Any kids?"

"None but I like kids. Max's a great little boy. I know we're in the middle of our first date but I'd really like it if we could bring Max along, next time. With no kids it looks shady if I go to the petting zoo alone. That is if you agree to a a next time."

**xoxoxoxox**

Will blinked and suddenly they were back at Mercedes house. She was sitting on the living room floor, eating Chinese food while bathed in the glow of a TV screen.

"You're still up?" Sam asked, coming in from the hall.

"Yes, I hope you didn't eat yet." She pointed to the box in front of her. "Mongolian lamb in honor of Barbarian week." `

He sat down and picked up a container of food. "These as Mongols?" He asked staring at the screen.

"No, Visigoths. They got a little sumptin sumptin prepared for the Romans. Serves that right for that whole Boudica incident."

"Who or what is Boudica?"

"Queen of the Iceni? She staged a revolt against the Romans and it didn't end well for her but she went out in a blaze of glory. Kinda. I have it on DVD somewhere, I'll dig it up for you. Which reminds me. Here." She handed him a package. "This is for you. I just got around to unpacking."

"You brought me a present?" He looked in the bag.

"No, it's from Kurt."

"I don't even know Kurt. " He pulled an object from the bag. "Shorts?"

"It must be a bathing suit. Yes, it's a bathing suit."

"Why? I mean why would a guy I don't even know send me a bathing suit?"

"We were discussing it and..."

"You were discussing me in a bathing suit?" He asked with a half smile.

"No, well yes. Kinda." He started laughing under his breath at her sudden blush. "We were discussing Tina," she explained "how she doesn't have a decent bathing suit and I didn't know if you had one or not. Then Kurt got to sewing and there you are."

"I have to thank him cause I didn't have one." He picked up the bag and headed to the door. "Well I guess I should try this on." Two minutes later he reappeared, looking better than Mercedes had imagined he world in dark green board shorts. The one time she'd seen him without a shirt they'd both backed away immediately, embarrassed.

"Not exactly the color I would have chosen, but I guess that's why he's the designer and not me." He twirled. "How do I look?"

"Okay." Mercedes mumbled. Delicious is the word she wanted to say. The color was perfect with his green eyes. Correct, that's why Kurt's the designer.

"So then what's this?" He held up a tankini top. "Some New York designer thing? It's never gonna fit."

"Wait til you meet Kurt." She leapt to her feet and grabbed the object form his hands. "He's a world class busy-body. Hundreds of miles away and still minding my business." She balled it up and threw it across the room. "It's just his idea of a joke."

"This too?" He held up a bikini bottom and gave her that half smile again. Mercedes didn't know if that smile was pissing her off or turning her on. "Didn't you say 'Fashion Show" was your favorite game growing up? I'm dressed for it."

Then she knew what effect that smile had. "Well, if we're going to play Fashion Show - Resort Wear Edition, we're gonna need some water." Each holding onto the bikini bottom they headed for the bathroom.

**xoxoxoxox**

"Becky!" Will put a hand on her arm, restraining her from following them. "I don't think I need to see what happens next."

"Need? No, you don't need to see what happens next. I'll just send you on your way and let you think about how it turns out Tina didn't need you either."

"I bet Rachel needed me!" Will was sure of it.

"We'll see about that. I'll catch up with you in a few. I've got work to do."

* * *

_Sweet Baby James - James Taylor_


	4. All of Me Wants All of You

Will opened to eyes to the back of Jacob Puckerman's head. Jacob was staring intently at a naked blond woman yawning and throwing back the quilt on a bed. The blond stretched and it was truly magnificent.

"Yeah, baby! That's what I'm talking about!" Jacob went closer and touched the girl's breast. Although she couldn't see them, she sensed something and brushed his hand aside, like she was swatting a gnat. "If only." Jacob muttered. "If only."

Will cleared his throat.

"Oh, there you are!" Jacob turned his body towards Will but kept looking at the girl. "Where were you 20 minutes ago? You missed it man! Damn that girl knows some tricks!"

"I hope you guys don't spy on me like this." Will shuddered at the thought.

"You all by your lonesome? Trust me, we don't. Now big red on the other hand?" Jacob smiled at all the 'research' he'd done on Emma and that dentist she married. That woman was a tiger in bed!

"You didn't!" Will said angrily.

"Okay, I didn't." Jacob agreed with a stunning lack of sincerity. "Great! She's going to take a shower. Wanna come?"

"No, I do not! And don't you have to stay with me?"

"Damn it, you're right." He looked at the man in the bed, Artie Abrams.

Artie sat up in bed and looked at his alarm clock. Damn, he was going to be late. He looked around for his chair. Damn, she left it in the living room. "Britt!" Damn, damn, double damn – she can't hear it in the shower and she takes long showers.

Twenty minutes later Britt came bouncing into the bedroom, soaking wet. "Yes!" Jacob yelled with a fist pump. "Yes!"

"Britt. I'm going to be late!"

"So what? I'm late all the time and nobody cares."

"That's because you're fucking beautiful. I don't have that advantage. Can you please bring my chair in? I need a quick shower."

Britt leered at him. "Of course, babe. You know, I could use another shower too!"

-on the other side of town -

"You know how to mix sound too?" Blaine stared at Kurt's best friend, impressed, as Mercedes' hands glided over the mixing console, adjusting the sound in the nightclub converted into a runway for this show.

"Yeah. I learned in highschool. AV club and proud of it!" She frowned at something only she could hear and moved lever a fraction of an inch. "That's how I got 'discovered'. I worked at a production company, mixing and doing backing vocals. It was such a small place everybody there had 'and' in their title. So Rachel Berry, you know her right?" Blaine nodded. "Rachel walks in wanting to record something for her dad's birthday. He dad, the black one, loves Toni Braxton. Toni Braxton! I'm horribly biased against her for reasons I won't go into but she does have a fairly decent voice. But Toni Braxton? Not on her best and Toni's worst day! She didn't see me because I was in the sound booth and she didn't recognize my voice. She's not one for listening. Anyway I had a hell of a time making it sound halfway decent. Maybe I went a little heavy on the backing vocals. Shane, who I'm sure Kurt has mentioned, was a producer/percussionist there, heard the end result, and the rest, as they say, is history. Shane knows how to listen, I'll give him that. Too bad the guy they hired to do this flaked out. I just hid in here to get out of Kurt's way. I don't know how you can stand him, the week of a show. He's a madman." She smiled, thinking about her oldest friend.

"He was frantic until you and Tina showed up. Then he could relax. A little. And then the sound guy bailed."

Patrice, Kurt's tall black assistant, ducked her head inside the sound booth. "Sound guy's here." she announced. "Blaine, can you please come do whatever it is you do to calm him down? Mercy, can you please make sure he has the timing we went over?"

"Sure thing. What's his name?"

"Artie." He pushed past the assistant. "Hello, Mercedes. Long time no see."

"Right." She said coldly. Blaine wondered if Tina knew this same trick, the way Kurt and Mercedes could make the temperature in a room drop by 20 degrees. He wondered what this guy had done to her while he watched her push a pad of paper towards him.

"The show takes roughly 20 minutes." She sounded ice cold. "It's all timed out and cued up. How we doing on time, Patrice?"

"Five, 10 minutes?" she answered. She looked at her vibrating cell phone. "Gotta go. I'll give you a two minute warning." Both women stood looking at Blaine who was looking at Mercedes. "You coming?" Patrice asked.

"Give me 30 seconds." He motioned for Mercedes to follow him out. "You want me to stay? Kurt can survive a few minutes without me."

"No problem. Tell Kurt I'll be down right after Patrice's cue." She patted Blaine on the arm. "Really, it's no problem. Tell Kurt's the sound's in good hands." She went back into the sound booth.

"Hello, Artie." She glared at the man in the wheelchair.

"Hey. You working the sound board tonight?"

"No, just helping a friend. That's what I do, help my friends." She reached over to turn down some feedback but Artie beat her to it. So instead she turned her attention to the stage where she expected to see Patrice appear any minute now.

"You been doing sound for a long time?" Artie tried to make small talk.

"Oh sure." She said bitterly. "Ever since West Side Story." Patrice waved. "Gotta go!"

"Wait a minute!" Artie pleaded. But she was gone. He watched her slide into a seat in the front row, holding a small boy on her lap.

_I don't know what to do  
'Cause all of me wants all of you  
Do I stand alone at the shore?  
Once I could turn away  
From everything I feel today  
But now I wanna walk through your door _

_And I've got to know, know, body and soul  
That you've got no doubt, inside and out  
We are whole, whole, body and soul  
Don't leave me out in the cold  
Just love me body and soul_

He listened to her voice, flowing in a duet with some guy. Of course Artie knew she was a singer, can hardly not notice when three kids from your highschool, kids who had been your friends, hit the big time with Grammys, Emmys, Tonys and shit. He didn't realize Kurt rented the nightclub for his fashion show. During Fashion week this place does two shows a day and the whole thing is just a job to Artie. If he had realized that he might have guessed Mercedes would show up. But on the other hand, don't Grammy winners have other things to do with their time?

He watched the models strut down the runway and listened to the next song on the playlist. She was singing a song he'd never heard before, something much nicer than the hip-hop she usually sang. This was uptempo RB and really showed off the richness of her voice. He closed his eyes for a minute and let the sound wash over him.

Artie had seen lots of fashion shows, tons of models. They were always tall, thin and usually white. They stalked down the runway in six-inch heels like predatory birds hunting by scent. It seemed like a scent they didn't like because the sneers they usually wore is what he hated the most. That and the fact that they all looked alike, like clones. He guessed that was the point, to focus on the clothes and not the models. But this show was different, the models were all shapes, sizes, ages, genders and colors. Real clothes for real people the sign hanging over them said. He watched an outrageously curvy girl sashay down the runway and thought about West Side Story.

**Xoxoxoxoxox Flashback to Senior Year**

"I swear, Artie, this year is it!" Mercedes said excitedly. "Senior year! It's my last chance to brighten the stage of McKinley High!" She was babbling, she knew, but she couldn't help it. "It's stupid, I know, that having a boyfriend should make this big a difference, but I can't help it. Maybe, maybe it's like that little boost in self-confidence, knowing that somebody's really into you? Not just more of that 'oh, she's really sweet' or 'really nice'. I don't know, I just think this is going to be my year."

"Well, it's been my summer." He squeezed her hand and stared into her beautiful brown eyes. "I want to make the most of this year before you graduate and leave me behind."

"Leave you behind?" she laughed at that. "Never! You'll have to have me surgically removed. I can go to Ohio State for a year waiting for you to graduate. Then it's LA, baby."

"LA, baby." Artie repeated. They both looked up when Rachel Berry entered the auditorium.

"Do you know why Mr. Ryerson called this meeting?" the petite brunette asked.

At just that minute Mr. Ryerson entered the auditorium, followed by Kurt and Tina.

"You may be wondering why I called this meeting." He announced with a flourish. "Well, it's about this year's school musical."

"The Wiz!" Mercedes shouted. She jumped up and started dancing, linking arms with Kurt and Tina.

_Ease on down, Ease on down, down the road  
Ease on down, Ease on down the road  
Don't you carry nothing that might be a load  
Come on  
Ease on down, Ease on down, down the road_

_Cause there may be times when you think you lost your mind_  
_And the steps you're taking leave you three four steps behind_  
_But the road you're walking might be long sometimes_  
_You just keep on stepping and you'll be just fine_

"The Wiz?" Rachel scoffed. "They're all black. How's that fair?"

"They don't have to be black. Non-traditional casting. Artie, weren't we just talking about that the other day?"

"West Side Story" Rachel said, ignoring Mercedes.

"South Pacific." Tina said softly. "How about South Pacific?"

"Or Rent?" Kurt added. "There's lots of good singing roles in Rent. West Side Story is just the Tony and Maria show." Rachel glared at him. "Sorry Rachel but it's true. Tony, Maria and a little Anita. What about everybody else? What do you think Artie, wouldn't Rent be great?"

"Well, none of them has a role for a guy in a wheelchair."

"So what? We can put somebody in a wheelchair if we need to." Kurt insisted. "Why can't Tom, or Mark, or Benny be in a wheelchair?"

"Well actually," Sandy interrupted "I've already gotten anonymous funding for the play, if we do West Side Story."

"Well ain't that a coincidence." Mercedes said bitterly. "Are we going to have open auditions or is casting Maria a condition of funding too?"

"No, the donor was clear that auditions should be open and fair."

**-Saturday morning (aka Shabbat) -**

"Congratulations on being named student director." Rachel sat down next to Artie, picking up her prayerbook and looking over at Artie's to make sure she was on the right page.

"Rachel? What are you doing here?" Artie knew for a fact Rachel hadn't seen the inside of Temple Beth Am since the day of her Bat Mitzvah, yet here she was.

"Well where else would a member of the tribe be on Shabbat?" She answered with a smile.

Artie frowned. Somehow he'd missed seeing her in the fairly small Jewish community of Lima. "I guess."

"Of course! So you busy this afternoon after services?"

"Not really. Mercedes wanted to give me time to myself to decide on who's playing Maria. You both were so good, it's hard to choose."

"Is it, really?" Rachel asked.

"Of course. Mercedes is a great singer. You both are."

"Thank you." She batted her lashes. "But close your eyes and think of Maria. Who do you see?"

Artie closed his eye. He saw Rachel but that was so predictable. "I thought it might be good to go with nontraditional casting."

"Artie, you don't want the audience to be sitting there, not buying the relationship. If everybody's going 'what the hell?' that hurts the entire production."

"You think so?" Artie asked hesitantly.

"I know it." Rachel sensed her opening. "Don't I know all about Broadway?" She pretended to pay attend to Rabbi Perl while she let Artie ponder that. Rachel didn't want to overplay her hand.

**_Later that night_**

"Hello, Mercedes." Artie sounded tired, upset.

"Hey, babe. I thought we were going to maintain radio silence until you decided about Maria." Made it public, Mercedes thought. Artie was her friend, he'd become more than a friend right before school started, but he'd make a fair decision. She knew that for a fact. She'd sang circles around Rachel and everybody with ears knew it. She smiled to herself, thinking about that weekend when his parents were out of town, and almost missed what he said next.

"Yes. I kinda...maybe...I think we should break up."

"Break up?" Mercedes was shocked. "Did you just say break up? Why? What did I do wrong?"

"You didn't do anything wrong. I just realized I'm not ready to settle down."

"You..just..realized?" She repeated slowly. "Just? And you couldn't tell me to my face?"

"I wanted you to hear it from me. Rachel and I" He stuttered. "I didn't want you to hear it at school before I talked to you." That the Bar Mitzvah boy was Jacob Ben-Israel's cousin? What were the odds? Well, pretty high given Lima's Jewish population. But still, getting caught kissing Rachel would be all over school by second period.

"Rachel?" A light dawned. "OK, fine. I heard it. Bye." Mercedes started to fling the phone across the room before remembering how her father swore he'd bought the last phone he was ever going to buy her. Instead she called Tina.

"Artie, it had to be done." Rachel leaned over and gave her new boyfriend a kiss. She braced herself for what was coming next. It had to happen sooner or later and her virginity was a fair trade for this role. Yes, she really loved Artie. Yes, she really did.

**_Two days before the show._**

Rehearsal was over, finally. As much as Rachel wanted to go over her lines, again, Noah, the guy playing Tony, bolted, taking the rest of the cast with him. Rachel, who turned out to be the world's most high maintenance girlfriend, left at last. That just left Artie with his last minute to-do list.

Costumes. He saw lights on in the home-ec room and ducked in.

"It's about time!" Mercedes was hunched over a sewing machine. "If I didn't know for a fact you're gay I'd be hella suspicious." She looked up and blushed. "Artie! Sorry, I thought you were Kurt. Tina and Kurt ran out for supplies." She ignored Artie and returned to her sewing.

"That's more than you've said to me in the last two months." Artie wheeled himself closer.

"What is there to say?" She focused on the machine. "Rachel's your Maria in every way, shape and form. Congratulations. I hope you two have a long and happy life together."

"Thank you." He looked at the piles of material spread around the sewing machine. "For helping me with the costumes."

"Thank Kurt and Tina." She looked at him for the first time. "I'm doing this for my friends."

"Thank you anyway. Listen, Mercedes. I'm really sorry about the way things turned out."

"Not sorry enough to actually do something about it." She pointed out. "But I guess that's how it works when you're sleeping with the director. I guess I should have held out until..."

"Chinese!" Tina announced, pushing aside the door, interrupting their conversation.

"Thank god! I'm starving." Mercedes jumped up and bolted across the room. "Seems we have unexpected company. Did you bring extra?"

Kurt came in carrying an armload of fabric. "I guess so. Hey Artie, how's you're sewing skills?"

"Thanks for the invite but I should go." He glanced over at Tina and Mercedes, both of whom where giving him 'yeah, you really should' looks.

**xoxoxoxox**

Artie watched the final parade of models down the runway, followed by Tina and Kurt holding hands. The little boy sitting on Mercedes' lap jumped up and grabbed Tina's other hand. Mercedes kissed Kurt and gave him a bouquet of yellow roses. He listened to the last song on the playlist, the three of them singing together.

_Ooh you're the best friend that I ever had  
I've been with you such a long time  
You're my sunshine and I want you to know  
That my feelings are true  
I really love you  
Oh you're my best friend_

_Ooh you make me live_  
_Ooh I've been wandering round_  
_But I still come back to you_  
_In rain or shine_  
_You've stood by me girl_  
_I'm happy at home_  
_You're my best friend_

"Sorry for walking out like that." Artie heard the door open behind him and smelled her perfume. He turned to face her.

"I'm sorry about a lot of things." He responded.

"Yeah." She smiled hesitantly. "So anyway Sam recommended I come back and talk to you."

"Sam?"

"Yes, he's not really a model but Kurt needed an extra body and Sam can work a runway, that's for sure." She laughed to herself. "The tall blonde guy? I guess it doesn't really matter but his idea, and obviously I agree because I'm here, but he suggested I say something before we take off." She remained standing near the door. "Baggage. He says negative karma is unnecessary baggage, Baggage it doesn't do any good to carry around. Just hurt your back for nothing. Physical clutter, emotional clutter. He's like a monk. Sam believes in travelling light and I can see the logic of it. Sooooo..." She took a deep breath. "We were kids back then, and even with the way things turned out, I don't regret that you were my first. Probably it was a mistake but I don't regret it. And I understand why you choose Rachel."

"She dumped me right after the show."

"I know. I felt bad for you at the time, but I didn't know what to say, seeing as I kinda thought you had it coming. Petty I know. Anyway, it was a long time again. I just wanted to say goodbye. I never did before." She closed the distance between them and kissed him on the check. "Goodbye Artie."

"Goodbye Mercedes."

**xoxoxoxox**

"I don't see how any of that's my fault." Will said.

"It's not." Becky admitted. This time her accent was a Germanic, Heidi Klum type. "You really didn't make any difference in his life one way or another."

"So what's the point?"

"My point is you get so caught up in the kids and they don't need you as nearly much as you think. They have each other and you just keep butting in, trying to direct the lives of kids you barely know. But look at your life, who are you to tell them you know better?"

"That's kind of harsh, Becky."

"Yeah well." Becky thought for a minute. "Listen, it's Christmas and I'm feeling generous. Let me say you made a big difference to Finn. Jesus, he'd be married to Quinn and on the hook for child support for Puck's kids. So there's that." She rubbed her hands together. "Home stretch! Let's look at the one student you paid a lot of attention to and see how she worked out."

**today's song list**

Body and Soul – Anita Baker

Ease on Down the Road – Dianna Ross/Michael Jackson form The Wiz Soundtrack

You're My Best Friend – Renee and Jeremy's coffee-house cover of Queen


	5. This Year The Winter Is Cold

"Hello. Mr. Schuester!" Will looking into the beaming blue eyes in front of him.

"Hello, Rach...I mean Marley."

"I'm so glad it's my turn!" She bounced in front of him. "Am I the luckiest girl in the world or what? Nobody else wanted to do this, can you believe it? Rachel Berry! I can't believe it."

"Settle down, Marley. Rachel's just a person."

"Just the most talented person in the world!" Marley said with excitement.

"Yeah, right. Where are we now?" He looked around the darkened room.

"Rachel's house in New York."

**xoxoxoxoxox**

Rachel was kneeling in front of a menorah on the coffee table. She carefully lit the candles from left to right while singing softly.

_Baruch Atah Adonai  
Eloheinu Melech HaOlam,  
asher kidshanu b'mitzvotav  
v'tzivanu  
l'hadlik ner shel Hanukkah._

She lit the last candle and sat back smiling, the candles reflecting in her brown eyes.

"What are you doing" A voice from the other side of the room called out. A frown, just for a second, flickered across Rachel's face.

"I told you, I'm lighting the menorah." she answered.

"For your Jewish Christmas?" the voice asked with just a hint of a snicker.

"It's not Jewish Christmas! There's no such thing as Jewish Christmas. It's Hanukkah. Judah Maccabee, a day's worth of oil that lasted for eight days. No snowmen or angels or reindeer."

"Now I remember. No need to get snarky. Jesus!"

"No Jesus either."

The man on the other side of the room sighed. "You about done with that? Come on back to bed."

"We're going out, I thought you said we could go out."

"I did?"

"Yes, you did. It's open mic night and you promised."

"Damn it, Rachel, I hate open mic and you know it. It's painful. I know you hope to get discovered but it'll never..."

"You promised." She interrupted, trying to keep the whine out of her voice..

"You can go next week." They heard the sound of someone bouncing on a bed. "It'll be more fun here."

Rachel stood up and picked up her coat. "I'll be back later, Brody."

"Rachel!" the voice called out sharply, causing her to stop. "I only have a couple of days before I have to go back to the set. I only came over here on account of you. I can go back to my hotel and sit around by myself." He paused for emphasis "Or not."

"Or you could do what I want for once."

"Or not."

Rachel let out the breath she'd been holding. "Or not." She left the apartment.

**xoxoxoxoxox**

"Hey William!" Becky spoke in a Cajun accent. "I got a special treat for you. Watch this!"

They were in a crowded bar. There was a stage and live music on one side of the room, a backlit bar on the other. Sitting at the bar was the most beautiful woman Will had ever seen. Cascading blonde curls and a beautiful body encased in a skin-tight sky-blue dress that was sexy without being slutty. Although the dress had a high neckline it was short and showcased her long legs. She was gazing around the bar, shaking her head whenever the waitress brought over drinks sent by admirers. No, she was looking for something special. Once she'd made a visual circuit of the room she was surprised to find Sam standing next to her. Sam looked past her, trying to get the bartender's attention.

"Hello there" she said with a seductive smile.

"Hey" He answered.

"Nice accent. Where are you from?"

"Lots of places. Most recently Atlanta."

"So you're just visiting Manhattan?"

"Yup." Where the hell was that bartender?

"Well so am I." She held out her hand. "Lucy."

"Sam." He looked at her for the first time and smiled politely.

"So Sam, you have plans for latter tonight?" Lucy believed in the direct approach.

"Matter of fact I do. And even if I didn't, no."

"No?" she batted her eyes. "No?"

"No." His green eyes registered no emotion. "I've slept with you before."

"No." She looked his athletic build up and down. "I think I'd remember that."

"Well, not you specifically." His smiled never reached his eyes. "But you generically."

"You don't know me." Her blue eyes glinted.

"Don't I?" He replied in a bored tone. "Let me guess. You married young, right out of high-school. You have at least one child and a husband who thinks he's the luckiest guy in the world. You're bored to tears so you flirt. The first time things went too far you were racked with guilt. You went home, swearing you were going to confess. But when you got home the baby was crying and your husband was sitting there in a ratty t-shirt watching a football game. You deserve more than that, that's what you told yourself. And the next time you didn't feel so guilty about it. Each time it was just a little bit easier. And now here you are, sitting in a bar looking for a little random." His smile gave her chills. "I'm not your random."

"You don't know me." She repeated through gritted teeth.

"Where are you supposed to be right now? Visiting your mom?" Sam looked down the bar for that damned bartender. "A sick friend?" He turned to face Lucy, just in time to be greeted with a glass of wine to the face. Sam laughed at her. "Did that make you feel better?" He wiped his face with his sleeve.

"Not really." She said coldly. Lucy looked for the bartender, or a waitress with free drinks, or anything else she could throw. When she turned back Sam's eyes were being covered by a pair of hands. The hands were black, short nails nicely manicured, and devoid of jewelry except for a single gold band.

"Guess who!"

Sam laughed, and not the brittle laugh he'd used on Lucy. "I'm guessing my favorite, cherry chocolate cheesecake. Yum!" Lucy noticed a matching gold band when Sam reached up to pry the hands away.

"Sam!" the owner of the hands giggled. "We're in public."

"Then I guess I'll have to get you somewhere private." He turned and kissed the shorter woman passionately. Lucy couldn't believe he'd turned her down for this nothing special looking black woman.

"Sam," the woman was fussing over him "what the hell happened to you, you're wet!"

"I've got something else I wanna get all wet." He pulled her closer.

Mercedes blushed. "Damn you're a hot mess. It's only been two days!"

"Two days and three nights! Three whole nights! I thought I was gonna die." She looked at Sam as if she was actually considering saying no. He pressed himself against her and whispered in her ear. "Je pensais que j'allais mourir!" Then he licked her earlobe and squeezed her ass.

"You know I can't resist your French trash talk. Je ne vais pas te laisser mourir bébé. Maybe we should get you out of those wet clothes."

"Now that's what I'm talking..." They were interrupted by a clatter of falling glass as Lucy's attempt to discretely leave the bar was ruined by a collision with a waitress.

"Quinn!" Mercedes spotting the blond trying to slink out of the bar. "What are you doing here? I thought Kurt took you guys to a play."

Who the hell is she? Lucy/Quinn thought fast. She knows Kurt. Lucy/Quinn didn't recognize her without her usual boatload of makeup but, shit! It must be..."Hey Mercedes."

"You know, Quinn, it is?" Sam gave Quinn a mocking smile.

"Yes, from back home. She's Kurt's sister-in-law."

"Married to the brother with the garage?"

"Yes, Kurt's only brother." She ignored Sam's laughter. "Why didn't you go with them?"

"Well," Quinn stammered. "I didn't feel well and..."

"You seem to have recovered." Sam said while squeezing Mercedes' hand. She frowned, had Quinn tried to seduce Sam? Mercedes wouldn't put it past her but prettier women than Quinn had tried, and failed, to seduce Sam.

"Well, it looks like you met Sam. My happily married husband, Sam."

"Nice to meet cha." Sam extended his hand. "Quinn. That's a very pretty name."

"Thanks." she mumbled. "But I really should be getting back."

"Why the rush?" Mercedes asked, glancing at her watch. "They have live music, we might as well have a listen." Quinn protested. "Quinnie, we never get the chance to talk. I insist."

**xoxoxoxoxox**

"Et pourquoi sommes-nous encore là?" Sam asked. Why were they sitting here, making small talk with someone neither one of them gives a shit about, when he could think of 101 things he'd rather be doing, all of them involving her naked body.

"Nous allons sortir d'ici dans 20 minutes, je vous promets" Twenty minutes is all it would take to teach this bitch a lesson she'd never forget.

It's a fucking McKinley High School reunion, Quinn thought. First her husband's brother's best friend shows up, with a husband who apparently once went to McKinley and now this. Quinn remembers the girl who just walked on stage, remembers how Finn once had a thing for her, but can't remember her name. "What's her name?" she interrupted the couple bickering in French. Least they could do is speak English. This is America after all.

"Rachel." Mercedes said, sounding pissed off. That cheered up Quinn a little, helped her focus on a plan to get out of here. "Rachel Berry."

"Rachel Berry! Well, I haven't seen her in years." Quinn tried to sound impressed. "Damn she's good!"

"I suppose." Mercedes conceded.

"Lucy...I mean Quinn, is right, baby. She's not bad."

"Not you too." Mercedes answered. "And for the record, I never said she couldn't sing. What I said was..."

Maybe they'll start fighting Quinn hoped. Should she stay and instigate a fight or sneak out while pretending to go to the bathroom? Decisions, decisions. Quinn made her choice "I have to go use the little girl's."

Mercedes stood up too. "What a coincidence, me too. Sam, we'll be right back."

When Quinn returned with her guard not only was Rachel sitting at their table but so were Kurt and shit! Finn.

"Kurt!" Mercedes faked surprise at seeing her old friend. "What a coincidence!" Coincidence as in they had planned to meet here several days ago. "I'd love to stay and chat but somebody spilled a drink on Sam. Seems I can't take him anywhere. Anyway, I'll give you a call tomorrow. Finn, Rachel," She pulled Sam to his feet. "Quinn."

"I thought you went to Jersey to visit Santana." Finn looked at the dress she was wearing, a dress he'd never seen before. "And where'd you get that dress?"

"This old thing?" Quinn decided to ignore the question of why she was still in Manhattan and focus on the dress. "I've had it forever."

"Don't lie to me Quinn! If you've had it forever you've never worn it for me." The tall mechanic sat down and rested his head in his hands. "Again? You're doing this to me again? We came here for the weekend, for a fresh start, and you're doing this again?"

"Finn," She down close to Finn, whispering urgently. "This isn't working. I told you it's never going to work. But no, you had to be stubborn about it. Well, this is what you get."

"You had to embarrass me in front of my family but I guess you finally made your point." He glared at his soon-to-be-ex-wife. "I'm fighting for custody. You can visit but I'm fighting for custody. I won't have my kids raised by a...by you."

"Custody?" Quinn laughed harshly. "They're not your kids so good luck with that."

"What?"

"Don't play dumb with me. Your brother's been dropping hints from the day he met me. That's one reason, one of many, why I don't like him. Well for once he's right." She stood up. "You know what? This is a relief, to be free. See you in court."

**xoxo - later that night - xoxox**

Finn opened his eyes and looked around, wondering where he was. It took him a few minutes to remember he was in Kurt's spare bedroom. When he smelled Quinn's perfume on the sheets he instinctively reached for her. But she was gone, gone for good this time. Funny how he'd forgiven her so many times but this last, public humiliation was the final straw. Instead of her he thought about his kids. He loved Beth, Natalie and Bo and now he'd never see them again. That hurt in a way losing Quinn didn't. His babies were gone forever. He wiped the tears from his eyes and got up to look for a drink.

Although the house was quiet, Kurt had said something about leaving to pick up Blaine at the airport, Finn realized he wasn't alone in the apartment. Someone was singing softly in the glow from a laptop screen.

_Winter was warm  
Summer soft that year  
The winter was warm  
Without a sign of frost  
Like winter lost  
Its way that year_

_It seems as I recall  
No blossoms fell that fall  
May didn't leave at all  
Or did love paint an illusion?  
_

_Now trees with a sigh  
Stand and shiver  
While their dreams fall and die  
And all my dreams are there  
Wrapped up somewhere  
In summer leaves  
_

_Oh, what I'd give to be  
To be in love again  
This year the winter is cold  
Will it ever be warm  
As it was then? _

"That was beautiful." Finn said when she finished.

"Thank you." Rachel answered, looking up. "I didn't wake you did I? Kurt went to the airport to pick up Blaine. They should be back soon. I offered to stay, just in case you needed something."

"Thank you but I'm fine. I'll be fine." He sat down next to her on the sofa. "What are you doing?"

"Editing some pictures I took for Kurt. That's why he came to the club, to pick these up."

"You work with Kurt?"

"No, not really. I work with Blaine and he threw this job my way. Blaine's really sweet that way."

"And that song you were singing? It seems familiar somehow but I can't place it."

"Mr. Magoo's Christmas Carol." She laughed nervously. "I like that song a lot. The way it flows."

"I thought you were Jewish or something. I mean, I remember hearing something like that once."

"Yes, I'm Jewish but my dads can't resist a musical and it's a Berry family tradition to watch it together." She looked up at Finn, who was still standing. "See, I took these at Kurt's show."

**xoxoxoxoxo**

"My dad's a lawyer. Did you know that?" Rachel asked after they looked at all of the runway pictures and were sitting at the kitchen table, drinking hot chocolate.

"No, I didn't know that." He watched her nervously tuck her hair behind her ears.

"I called him. I'm not trying to interfere but I called him because he does a lot of divorce work. He said you could call him anytime if you need help."

"Thank you."

"He also said" Rachel hesitated "I know this sounds like I've been gossiping but he also said, that since your name is on the birth certificates, and you've been providing support all this time and the children don't know their biological father, you could fight for custody. I mean, he said it's hard for a father to win custody unless the mom's a total flake, but it's not impossible. I don't know her but she doesn't sound like the kind of woman who wants to raise three kids."

Finn looked at the Hudson family beaming from this year's Christmas card. Quinn had that far away look in her eyes that Finn was so familiar with. Beth and Natalie looked like their mom, beautiful blonds. Bo, the baby, looked more like Finn, a fat happy little boy. Finn had always thought that was because he was the only boy. He supposed the first thing he'd have to do is get DNA testing for the kids. Maybe Quinn was lying, maybe at least one of the kids was his. He didn't care who their father was but maybe, if one was his he'd have a better case in a custody fight. Maybe he'd win and the judge would want to keep them together.

"If you could live anywhere..." Finn looked up and tried to focus on the short brunette. "Anywhere in the world, where would it be?"

"I don't know. Where I live I guess. Lima's okay."

"Yes, but it's just a coincidence that you live in Lima. Suppose it was up to you?"

"I don't know. What about you? Manhattan?"

"I don't think so, not anymore." She twirled her mug.

"You used to talk about it all the time, back in high-school." He smiled, the first time in hours.

"Well, back then I thought I'd own New York like I owned McKinley. Unfortunately there's thousands of girls with the same thought. You wouldn't believe the competition for singers here. It's brutal." She twirled the mug again. "I'm surprised you remember that time we went out."

"Yes, I remember that date. It was nice. Relaxing."

"Really? People tend to think I have an overbearing personality."

"Not overbearing. And even if you were it would have been better than constantly finding fault with people, like Quinn. She hates everybody. Even me apparently but I only just found out. I would have gone out with you again, I'd broken up with Quinn at that point, but then she told me about the baby and all. We decided to get married right after graduation." He lapsed into thought. "Asheville." He said finally.

"Asheville? Where's Asheville?"

"It's in North Carolina, in the mountains. We took a vacation there once. It's beautiful there and the kids and I loved it. This was before Bo but he'd like it too, I know he would." Finn looked at his hand and wondered why he was still wearing a wedding band. Quinn moved out months ago and she couldn't even make it through this last ditch effort to save their marriage. She did't last one weekend. He took off the gold band. They both stared at the ring until they were startled by the sound of Kurt and Blaine unlocking the front door.

* * *

Hebrew Candle lighting prayer - Blessed are You, O Lord Our God, Ruler of the Universe, Who has sanctified us with Your commandments and commanded us to kindle the lights of Hanukkah.

Winter Was Warm – Mr. Magoo's Christmas Carol


	6. A Look That Time Can't Erase

_"So Will." Sue Sylvester was sitting in front of him, playing poker with Becky and the rest of his guides. "Did you ever wonder why there was no No Directions?"_

_"Told you so, boss." Becky gloated at Will's blank expression and exchanged hi-fives with Jacob. Jacob reached over and took half of Marley's surprising large pile of chips. Marley pouted and looked at him with large puppy-dog eyes._

_"Sorry, babe, a bet's a bet." Money is one place where Jacob draws the line, the one thing that trumps sex._

_Sue shoved her paltry pile of chips at Jacob and Becky and sneered at Will "God, you're pathetic. Blink."_

_**xoxoxoxo**  
_

Will Schuester opened his eyes, confused by the two streams of memories flowing through him. One stream was real life, the other was alternate life. No, now he's in his alternate real life. He looked at the man sitting on the other bed in this hotel room. Jeff, his name was Jeff and he was... Who was he?

"Come on Schu, let's get this party started." Jeff winked and picked up his guitar case. "The happy couple has big plans for later tonight."

"Right. Who's the happy couple tonight?" Will remembered he's a wedding singer by night and a what? This is not a full-time job so what is he by day?

"Olivia, but call her Libby, and Aaron."

"Right." Will also remembered there are two more members of the band. But what are their names? "And where's the others?"

"The lovebirds are next door." Jeff pounded on the adjourning hotel room door. "Shannon, Ken! Let's get to work."

Will Schuester, front man for the wedding band "New Directions" serenaded the crowd. He loved this job, and loved weddings, which was surprising considering how his marriage crashed and burned.

Terri had been a good wife. No, not really, but quitting teaching for accounting had been a good idea. Terri and his folks all agreed on that. Sometimes even he agreed. Hell, he'd never be wearing $1000 suits and living in a penthouse condo if he'd stayed in teaching. Singing on the weekends, although it didn't bring in much money, was just the creative outlet he needed. Of course Terri thought she was all Will needed and when it turned out she wasn't she decided to take as much money as she could and leave. So now Will spends his weekends performing with Jeff from marketing and Shannon and Ken, a pair of teachers Will knew from softball league.

Today Will looked at the happy couple, a young redhead and her dark-haired Asian husband, as they danced and twirled across the floor. Contrary, or maybe because of Terri, Will believed in true love.

Jeff thinks he pathetic, the way he fell in love with almost every woman he's been set up with and Will's starting to see Jeff's point of view because unfortunately none of the women fell in love with him in return. Will was so busy looking at the new couple, thinking about true love, that he didn't notice the woman who had walked up to him.

"Excuse me?" Will found himself looking into a pair of large blue eyes and a mass of red hair that matched the bride's. "Excuse me?"

"You have got to be the bride's sister." He answered smiling.

"Yes, the hair." She laughed. "It's the Pillsbury curse."

"I'd never call it a curse. It's stunning."

"Oh!" She ran her fingers through her hair and blushed. "Thank you. Thank you very much." she fished for a complement to return. "And your hair, it's so nice and...and curly."

"Thank you." he stood there in silence for a minute, staring at the woman in the ugly bridesmaid dress. "Will. My name is Will." He held out his hand.

"Emma. Emma Howell."

**Three weeks later**

"Come on Will, it's just a blind date. A favor for Ken, I'm not asking you to marry the woman." Shannon pleaded as they sat on the bleachers, watching Ken play softball.

"Shannon, I love you, you know that, but after my last blind date I swore off them."

"Yeah, but you'll like her. I promise. She's a therapist so she's used to dealing with crazy ass folks. Terri's a chapter in herself."

"Gee, thanks. " he said dryly. "That sounds like a fascinating way to spend an evening."

"But it's my wedding reception." his old friend whined. "You can spend the whole night discussing how beautiful the bride is. Ken's friend is sweet, really sweet, you'll like her."

"If she's so great why is she still single?"

"Hell if I know." Shannon relaxed. If Will's asking questions his answer isn't no. "She was a teacher, guidance counselor, when Ken knew her. She quit that and went back to college for another degree. Anyway she's a real cutie. You've seen Emma before. Remember that wedding full of gingers?"

**a week later**

_I can hardly wait to hold you, feel my arms around you_  
_ How long I have waited_  
_ Waited just to love you, now that I have found you_

_ You've got the_  
_ Look of love, it's on your face_  
_ A look that time can't erase_  
_ Be mine tonight, let this be just the start of so many nights like this_  
_ Let's take a lover's vow and then seal it with a kiss_

"How in the world could Ken and Shannon ever afford them? They're Grammy winners!" Will looked at Sam and Mercedes, who were burning up the charts right now, serenading a pair of gym teachers in a VFW hall.

"Oh, that one's easy." Emma looked at her former students. "We know them. I was a guidance counselor at the same school Ken was football coach at. Sam..." an image of Sam stripping at a bachorlette party flashed through her mind. "Sam's family had some financial problems so Ken found money in his budget to hire him as a paid assistant. It wasn't much money but it made a big difference to Sam. Ken didn't expect him to come, what with his wife about to drop a baby any minute, but Sam's loyal like that."

"You said 'that one's easy'. What did you mean by that?"

"It's strange," Emma juggled her plate of food, a mess of scallops stacked on top of olives and sliding into a pile of cheese and salsa. "Somehow I feel like I've known you before."

"Maybe it's because I'm so ordinary looking." Letting food touch each other, Will added that to the list of things this Emma does that the other one doesn't.

"Ordinary? No, that's not true. It's just feels weird, like I'm supposed to already know you."

"How is that possible?" Will asked.

"I don't know. Sue says..." she started.

"Sue?"

"My neighbor, she's around here somewhere. The band that's playing?" Will looked at the highschool kids that had been performing all night. "They're her kids. The school she works at had a band, a glee club and a dance squad. She merged them together and made them champions. Four consecutive Nationals championships. This is the same school Ken works at. Small world, huh? Anyway I hadn't seen Ken in years, until my sister's wedding, so the last thing in the world I expected was to get invited to his wedding. I said no at first but Sue insisted. She's a big believer in fate, that certain things are meant to be, no matter how they happened or how it ended. Like Carl." She was suddenly lost in thought.

"What about him?"

"We met a a conference. In Savannah. God it was hot! That's how we met, at the pool. God!" God he was hot she thought to herself. "Anyway, and this is totally unlike me, well...one thing led to another." She blushed at that part. "Anyhow, a couple of month's later..."She pulled out her cellphone and showed will a picture of a curly-hair girl. "That's Savannah. She's four."

"So Carl's you ex-husband?"

"Not exactly." She slipped the phone back into her purse. "We didn't exactly make it down the aisle. Savannah wasn't part of my big plan but no need to compound that with til death do you part. I mean, I'm all for marriage, it's a wonderful institution." She speared a piece of ravioli. "But..."

"But who wants to live in an institution?"

"Ten points for the Groucho Marx quote!" She laughed and kissed him lightly. "Oh, I love this song. Wanna dance?"

He looked at her, thinking about a different Emma, a Emma who would never have spent the weekend with a total stranger and become a single mother. That Emma would be standing on the edge of the dance floor, wearing something prim, proper and pastel. Not like this Emma, dressed in electric blue, long red curls bouncing as she danced. She looked so...

"Happy?" Sue asked him. He looked at this Sue, wearing a dress, not a sweat-suit for once. Which reality was this Sue in?

"Both." Sue answered. Will looked at her, puzzled. "I can see both versions of reality." Sue repeated. "I have that kind of power." She rubbed her hands together. "All kinds of power."

Emma waved at Sue and Will from the dance floor. "This is the Emma that fixed herself. The Emma that walked out on her parents the day after high school graduation and never looked back. The Emma that does what she wants when she wants to. This Emma doesn't 'need' Will Schuester. But she's not 'your' Emma, is she?"

Will watched Emma participating in the cheeziest of all wedding traditions, the drunken conga line. The line spiraled around the dance floor and out onto the patio. "So here's your big decision." Sue stated.

"Here's were you decided who you want to be. Consider yourself lucky, not many people get this choice. Correction, everybody gets this choice but it's not usually this obvious. You can go back to your Emma and devote your life to 'fixing' her, whatever that means. Or you can stay here and let her fix you." God knows you need fixing Sue thought. Sue left to join the group on the patio.

"Oh yeah, I need to mention this." Sue called back to him. "You've got one night to decide if you want to stay here or go back to whatever the hell you're doing with your life."

**- The next morning -**

Will opened his eyes and looked around his bedroom. It was pretty bare, Emma asked if he was moving in or moving out but the truth was neither. After his divorce everything was left in pretty much the left it was the day Terry walked out. That had been a shock, the way Terri just announced she didn't love him anymore and was moving to Florida. It was only later, after he'd paid her a lump sum, that he found out why she didn't want alimony, that somebody was waiting for her in Florida. Oh well, Will has plenty of money and a million dollars is a small price to pay to be rid of Terri. He looked at the beautiful woman he'd spent the night with, Emma was sitting on the edge of his bed, wearing nothing but one of his dress shirts, eating a container of yogurt.

"I really thing this stuff's going bad." She said, licking the spoon.

"And you're eating it anyway?" His Emma would never do that, but then this Emma does lots of things his Emma wouldn't have.

"Yogurt." She informed him, smearing some on his nose. "Is just curdled milk anyway. A little extra curdle won't kill me."

Will reached for her, trying to pull her back into bed.

"No can do." She laughed and wiggled out of his grasp. "I gotta get going. Vannah's at a sleepover and I need to pick her up."

"And you don't even have 5 minutes?"

"Five minutes? If it can be done in five minutes it ain't worth doing." She laughed lustfully. "I really got to go." She took of the shirt and admired herself in the mirror for a minute. Will's been living with the other Emma for months and has yet to see her totally naked. Sex with the other Emma is dive under the covers with the lights out. This Emma was completely comfortable with her body and was currently checking out her own ass and declaring it quite fine. Then she started gathering her clothes from the floor.

"Can I give you a ride home?" Will asked, reaching for the clothes he'd draped carefully on a chair.

"No thanks. Don't take this as an insult but I'm not ready to introduce you to Vannah yet. I need to know you a whole lot better before I make you a part of my life."

"But last night..."

"That was last night." She said firmly, pulling open the curtains, something Will never does. "Look! It's a whole new day, a whole new world." She looked at the window. "You've got such a beautiful view, if I lived here I'd leave these open all the time. You should see what you're missing."

**the end**

****The Look of Love - Dusty Springfield or Dionne Warwick or Diana Krall (or probably somebody else who's first name doesn't start with D!)


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